Words to Pierce the Dark
by chisoxtam14
Summary: Set in S4 within Ep4 and Ep5. After her attack, Anna is struggling with the immense love for her husband and her total fear of losing him in more ways than one should he ever find out. With her mind in a fragile state she seeks comfort from the past to help her through, but will it be enough to give her the strength she needs to break the heart of her beloved husband?


**_A/N: this may not be the best time for an angst filled hurt/comfort story for Anna and Bates, but it's an idea that I came up with while watching the so-called "Letters" episode of S3 and at the same time the a clip from S4 that is in the PBS version but was cut from the UK version. Enjoy! And review please. :)_**

**_Special thanks to Terrie for her editing skills. :)_**

**_Some of the dialogue in italics is the work of JFell and not me. I'm sure you'll recognize them. _**

**_I don't own._**

* * *

><p><em>"I'm moving back into the Abbey."<em> Anna Bates made the mistake of looking into the face of her husband as she spoke. His attempt to square his jaw against the blow was feeble in her presence. John Bates certainly didn't wear his emotions on his sleeve, but after loving this man for more than a decade he couldn't hide himself from her. She saw the moment she broke his heart and it resonated so strongly in her own that her vision blurred and her knees weakened.

Their lives, their very souls had been so entwined before...before that night. It had always reminded her of a passage in the novel Jane Eyre when Mr. Rochester proclaims his love for Jane just before the storm hits. He described a string fastened under his ribs which was tied tightly in a similar fashion to a knot in the same location on her; the tie, the bond of two destined souls in love. She had felt that same string conjoining her to John Bates nearly from the first moment she had met him. It was as if it had always been there and only in their new proximity did it thrum and tighten so both could feel its presence and their eternal bond.

But that was before. Now she couldn't feel more out of sync with the only man she had ever or would ever love. Her heart was created to love him, of that she was sure. This knowledge only breaking her own heart more than she thought could ever be possible. She could still feel that invisible thread connecting her heart to his, but it had never been so slack.

She returned her focus to the pile of clothes laid out on their bed that she was carefully stowing away into her small travel valise. She was hoping to have been done with this chore before his arrival into the home that was now his and no longer theirs, but she had failed. She felt as if that's all she was doing lately. But she steeled herself; she would not, could not fail to save him. That's why she was leaving him and their home. A place that had been the embodiment of every dream she hadn't even known she'd had.

"_Anna, please." _His voice cut into her, it was so broken a sound she could feel the shards of it piercing her brain. _"Whatever I've done, it can't...you can't...please don't leave me."_ The words fell away from him barely a whisper, lost to the heartache filling the room.

"_I'm...I'm not leaving you."_ The words choked her as she tried to keep her voice even. The truth and untruth in the words hanging heavy over her head. _"I've told you. You've done nothing. It'll just be easier while I tend to both Lady Mary and Lady Grantham. I just need…"_ She shook her head and stopped herself from finishing the thought, unceremoniously shoving her last few items in the bag. She could feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of her, but made no move to turn and face him. She couldn't less her already crumbling facade give way completely. She heard him take an uneven half step towards her and she felt herself tense up as her back straightened and stiffened. His movement stopped suddenly and she heard him sigh in recognition of her response followed by the sound of his uneven step and cane tap echoing from the hall then down the stairs.

After releasing the breath she didn't even know she was holding she felt a searing pain radiating from her palm. She looked down to see that she had been clenching her fists so tightly against the pain she was causing him that her nails had dug neat little cuts into her palm. It almost felt good to her; it relieved her to feel pain. It was almost as if she felt she deserved these cuts and the bit of bloodshed as penance for breaking her husband's heart. A man who had never done anything but love her so entirely and worship the ground she walked on.

She found a bit of flannel and dabbed the drops of blood, the site of which entranced her. She fought back the flashback that was choking her and let the tears come. She focused on the pain; relieved she could feel anything at all. She had numbed herself to so much since that night; her own fears, her own pain, the love she had for her husband and more so the love he had for her.

Her ability to turn to herself to steel, harsh cold metal, had astounded and frightened her. She had become so used to shutting herself off she thought she had possibly reached the point of no return. All the better for him; _'break his heart to spare his neck.'_ This had become her mantra. She repeated it to herself every time she felt herself weaken in his presence. Every time she saw the hurt in his eyes when she pushed him away with her words and avoided his every touch.

And yet, the level of despair and the burning achy tightness in her chest was the harsh reminder that she was not steel. She was not yet a master of shutting herself down and away. The mere tone of his broken voice, not to mention his sullen words, were enough to break through her armor. She would have to do better, she reprimanded herself. The pain he felt, the hurt she was now forced to impose on the both of them - no matter how horrible or how destroying - was not worth his life. She must break his heart to spare his life.

She wiped away the few cold tears upon her cheeks. She walked to his side of the bed trailing her hand along the mattress committing the feel to memory, closing her eyes to enhance the visions of all the love that had been shared so intimately between them. Every single moment they had shared in this room was so beautiful. All the time they had spent bodies joined in bliss; all the times they had gone to heaven together only to live again. All the nights moving to mornings that they had simply slept wrapped in loving embraces. The laughter, the hushed whispers of love and the plans for dreams they were hell bent on making come true which once had echoed loudly in the walls now fell on the deaf ears of a future lost.

She was snapped from her reverie by suffocation; the overwhelming level of emotions choking her. In the moment she spent lost in memories of love she would never feel again, she had claimed his pillow against her chest breathing him in. She placed her lips to it, _"this kiss to keep you. This kiss for all the ones I'll never be able to give again and for all the ones we've shared. This kiss as every goodnight I'll miss and one final kiss for what I never thought I would ever say; goodbye my dearest love."_ The words a hushed prayer for him to live on without her though she was leaving her heart behind with him, for it was his; always was, always would be.

* * *

><p>Anna kept herself moving endlessly throughout the entire day into night. Anything anyone was working on she offered to help with. She didn't want to stop for she knew the moment she did her thoughts would consume her. Not only that, but it seemed every time she did pause he was there waiting for answers she couldn't give and for forgiveness that wasn't hers to grant. No, it was for him to forgive her for all her sins that had brought the end.<p>

While his face appeared to be in its usual emotionless state to the rest of the house she could read his eyes and they were full of ache and longing. Every time her echoing eyes met his she felt her resolve waver. _'We're in each other's pockets...sometimes I think it's just too much...'_ these words had haunted her from the moment they were uttered. They fell from her lips so naturally it shook her to her very core. The agony of the untruth in the phrase yet it still acting as the dagger she needed - _not wanted _- it to be was torture in her fragile mind.

She made feeble attempts to steel herself against him but after a decade of letting this man deeper into herself and her soul it was no easy task. Not even her own family had been able to ever read her or affect her the way he did. She had been so grateful for it until now. Now she was nearly angry at it. The unfairness of it all and the sheer nonsensical cruelty the world could bestow when one least expected it. Rather than face him she fled from him every time he came into sight, ducking down corridors and into closets.

All too soon Lady Mary had rang for bed and with the final plaiting of her hair Anna was left alone with nothing to do. Of course tonight would be one of the few that he had finished with his Lordship at nearly the same moment. Anna had just reached the door for the servant's staircase when she heard his cane tap on the carpet and his uneven footfall. The sound would have been lost in the grand space to anyone else but she had been unconsciously trained to recognize it for years. She rushed for the door, flung it open and ran for for the attics before she could hear his voice or catch a glimpse of his eyes.

In the safety and privacy of the maid's room that was once again her home she let herself cry and mourn. She became nearly hysterical clutching the pillow to her chest, her knuckles nearly as white as the cloth her hands were holding. She closed her eyes and tried to surround herself with the memory of how he felt against her, but the pillow failed to be the comforting force she needed it to be and she threw it away from her. It was too small, soft and most of all cold to be his chest. So warm and broad she would melt against him in moments of sadness and in moments of bliss. She needed him so desperately she finally truly understood the meaning of the words Charlotte Bronte had written so poetically for Edward Rochester. She felt that string under her ribs fraying, soon it would snap completely and she would take to bleeding internally just as Mr. Rochester had sworn he would should he ever be parted from his beloved Jane.

Such was her encompassing need for him she made for the door, placing a hand on the cold metal before thunder clapped in her mind shouting the words she needed to hear; _'break his heart to save his neck.'_ The door knob slipped away from her grasp and she took a few steps backwards. She had to do better, she had to be stronger for him. But she needed something. Something to offer her comfort on this night when she had never felt so small or alone. Her eyes searched the room in desperation falling upon the castaway pillow, the bed that was too small and not at all inviting, the impersonal walls, and finally her valise. She crossed the room in a large stride and dug her hands deep to the bottom shoving aside clothing until she felt what she had been looking for.

Bringing these with her was merely an afterthought. She had come across them as she hurriedly grabbed her effects from their bedroom in her haste to pack and vacate the cottage. She nearly passed them up, but was drawn back to them and tossed the packet to the bottom of the bag. She was thankful at this moment for her second consideration. She walked to the bed not tearing her eyes away from the pile of envelopes. With trembling hands she untied the string that had been holding all the letters together.

_Mrs. J. Bates_ as some were addressed. Others to _Mrs. Anna Bates_. Both in his distinguished writing she could recognize anywhere. She felt the rough texture of the grey prison issued envelopes as her finger slowly passed over her own name. She still felt a thrill at seeing her name tied to his. Even now when she felt she needed to force away such feelings they tingled in her stomach with a bit of excitement and blush all the same. The reactions so involuntarily her brain hadn't even had the chance to comprehend the meaning of the title before her body felt it, reaching to her very depths. She couldn't have him but she would always have his words. She tentatively opened the first envelope in the stack and she breathed in deep as she let the words drift from the paper into her brain;

_Anna, my dearest love_… the words surrounded her with warmth like a comforting blanket or the security of his arms. After tearing through several of the letters the gauntlet of emotions she had ran through that day had finally caught up to her and she drifted into a fitful slumber still holding the letters, his words and by proxy, him, close to her as she slept dreaming of better days past and a future lost.

* * *

><p>Long aching days stretched into tortuous lonely nights, time somehow still passing though with no meaning to her any more. The ticking of the clock only signaling passing of meaningless minutes and hours heavy with his absence. She composed herself for the day, running a bit later than had become her norm this morning. After coming back to the Abbey to live she had begun to start her days earlier to give herself time for a quick cup of tea and piece of toast before her husband had the chance to arrive for the day. She didn't even take a moment to look at herself in the mirror making sure she was put together with precision. It wasn't that she was letting herself go, but she knew what she'd see beyond her impeccable hair and plain black frock, she'd see the greyish pallor not only her skin but her eyes seemed to have taken on. The fading of her inner light. She need not be reminded by sight, she only needed a moment alone with her thoughts to be reminded.<p>

She sighed loudly with indignation as he was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She questioned his motives for always waiting for her and his answer was simple and honest and full of so much devotion it drove her mad. _'I want to be the first to greet you in the morning.'_ What was she supposed to say to that? She told him, spat at him rather, that there was no need which he took to mean she didn't want him to but what she really meant was she was undeserving of his time. His devotion persisted and it was grating on her fraying nerves, her eyes darted about looking for escape and finding a bit of reprieve when Baxter approached them with some question about sewing. She couldn't recall exactly what she had asked, she neither was listening nor cared. All she wanted was out. In the midst of her unfocused moment he managed to catch her in a quick moment of casual conversation, the few exchanged words still came so naturally and she even forgot herself enough for a second to offer the slightest of smiles. It stayed resting on her face until she fully met his gaze and saw the look of hope at her smile. '_Break his heart to spare his neck,'_ her mantra rushed back to the forefront of her mind as a wave crashing on shore breaking the kindest moment they had shared in weeks. She muttered an exit and left for the servant's hall. She had sat for no more than three minutes before she made her excuses and hurried upstairs to the attics.

The panic was over taking her, her breathing was catching inside her tightened chest. She nearly stumbled into her room as she collapsed into the chair. She tried closing her eyes and counting to ten but all she could see were hazel eyes full of longing and sorrow. She clawed over to the bed where she clutched the first piece of paper to fall within her grasp. She scanned the letter looking for the phrases that always brought her the most comfort, feeling herself relax just taking in the sight of his sloping script. _'Forever your beloved, John.' _It was how he signed every letter during his incarceration, though the phrase never failed to set her heart afire. She read through another several letters before her breathing returned to normal and her legs felt more sure underneath her. She hoped she hadn't missed Lady Mary's ring and hurried down into the kitchens for the breakfast tray but not before slipping one of his letters into her pocket.

* * *

><p>Carrying one of his letters was a practice she continued every day after that. It helped her to carry that tiny bit of him with her always even when she was keeping him at arms length physically. She knew she wouldn't always have the time to scurry to her room to read one when the panic overtook her; the attacks sometimes brought on by the harsh words she had found herself always at the ready to throw his way or even at times from just the mere sight of him. When such instances occurred she would slip off to a dark corner where she could pull it out, read a few lines, trace his penmanship and calm herself with his love on the page.<p>

It was such a strange atmosphere she was surrounding herself in. On the one hand the sight of him and his ever constant devotion he tried to show her every single day through his actions or words grated on her. It was a constant reminder of her failings as his wife and how he was now far too good for her, knowing she could never be the same woman he married. Part of her wished he would turn his back on her, look upon her with angry eyes instead of broken ones, return her barbs with choice daggers of his own. But he never did. And it was so damn frustrating. What did she ever do to deserve such eternal love, especially in the wake of the "event?"

But on the other hand, when she had found herself in the throes of sorrow or even angry at his unwavering love for her and how he seemed to know how to give her just the right amount of distance - balancing between desperation for answers yet not pressuring her into telling him her troubles - she sought out these letters to bring close to her heart the memories of him in better days.

Better days. A funny thought seeing how these words had been written during months being deprived of even the smallest of touches. A time of forced and unjust separation only a few days after pledging their lives and love to each other in marriage and after knowing only one night of what it felt like to sleep in his arms. But they were married, the world knew it then and they were free to love openly and honestly - separately notwithstanding - and pour their hearts and souls on to these pages. In a small way she was grateful, yes she would do anything to have that time back, but because of that time apart she had these firm and tangible tokens of his love. She could hold them close to her and revel in the warm memories of the days when they were happy and living life side by side in their own home; the proverbial string tying their hearts together, strong and taught, reverberating loudly with each heartbeat that sang with love.

She was pushing his physical self away from her while holding tight to his words from the past. It was at best a precarious paradox she was using to keep herself as balanced as she could possibly be at such a time. And the level of irony was not beyond her. Yet here she stood. She knew very little with absolution anymore but in the moment this was working for her. So she clung to it with every ounce of strength she had like it was a bit of wreckage keeping her afloat in the middle of the ocean that was ready to swallow her whole.

But as is often the case the more we squeeze our hands tight around grains of sand, the more they slip through our fingers.

* * *

><p>She had to check the logbook in the servant's hall and her feet faltered as she came upon him sitting at the table reading alone. She glanced at him with her peripheral vision and bee lined for the book at the head of the room. He made his attempt at small talk inquiring about the commotion coming from the kitchens over Alfred's preparing of the evening's savory and she answered him without giving him a glance. She spun on her heel and with escape a footfall away he stopped her with his words. She turned with her body facing him but not her face, looking everywhere but directly at her husband. His tone was sharp for the first time and she was unprepared for it, flinching against the words as if a hand had been raised to her.<p>

'_What is it? Can't you even bear to be in the same room as me now?"_ The pain was still ever present in his voice but it was secondary to the controlled anger that was layered thick over it. She had wanted his anger, or at least she thought she had, but she was still unprepared for it and stumbled over her words only being able to weakly mutter what was the god's honest truth but also the one thing he wouldn't believe:

"_How many times must I say it? You've done nothing wrong." _There, she managed this truth with a shaking voice and made to leave it at that when he spoke out again, his words this time leaving her trembling.

"_Well, you've done something wrong."_ She shook from head to toe. A sense of dread and fear filling her, sending ice through her veins. What could he know? What did he suspect? With fear flooding her she questioned him, playing dumb to all her sins.

"_What do you mean?"_ Her lips trembled and tears stung her eyes. He could have said anything at that moment, anything at all and she could have borne it, anything except for the four words he uttered. Four words and she was broken.

"_You're breaking my heart."_

* * *

><p>She burned herself twice on the ironing Baxter had asked for help with before the weight of all that had fallen between her and her estranged husband came crashing down. The panic engulfed her and she might have uttered an excuse and an apology as she fled the suffocating laundry room and the presence of Ms. Baxter, but she couldn't be sure. His words and hers mixing together creating a toxic concoction poisoning her soul; '<em>You're breaking my heart,' 'break his heart to save his neck,' 'you're breaking my heart,' 'break his heart to save his neck' 'breaking my heart...' 'break his heart...' <em>

And she had. Her success bringing her no triumphs.

She ran for the back door and flung herself out into the rain. The drops fell cold on her cheeks like tears from mournings long since past. She tore his letter from her pocket gulping in deep the evening air. In her haste to open it and unfold it she tore a corner of the paper and watched it flutter away in the wind. She sighed and a dry sob shook her shoulders. It was as if she could feel a part of herself floating away with that scrap. She looked down, seeking the refuge of his words but the rain was smudging them and although she knew them by heart not being able to see them in his hand took the power away from them. His words in her mind were as warped as her mind had become. They didn't sound right and echoed in a vicious sounding voice, as if sarcastic and not in the least bit true. This letter spoke of her beauty she recalled, though all she heard was how unrecognizable she was. It spoke of her strength yet all she could hear was how weak she was. She cried out in lament towards the heavens before turning and running back inside. She nearly took out a poor hall boy in her haste but barely noticed as she ran for the stairs and finally her room.

With arms stretched open she swept the letters up to her embracing them but she felt nothing from them this time. She fell to the bed letting all but one fall from her grasp. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before gazing down to see his hand on the page. She read through it in a hurry, once, twice, three times but it did nothing to slow her breathing and calm her panic. She tried to focus on the his salutation of _'My beloved Anna,'_ but felt nothing. She skimmed towards the words _'I love you more than I can ever say. More than fire of the sun. More than can fill the infinite heavens. The stars contained therein do not dare to shine next to the ones in the bluest oceans of your eyes.'_ Still she was not filled with the comfort or warmth these words had always managed to bring forth. She threw that letter aside and picked up another. Still cold. Then another. Colder still.

She screamed aloud in desperation and heartbreak not knowing what to do. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. She couldn't feel him through these pages any more, not his love. Only his absence. With fists full of paper she lurched from the bed towards the fireplace and stared deep within the burning flames. These letters were no longer her comfort. They weren't enough and they'd never be him. She had only fooled herself into thinking they could serve as a lowly replacement. They could never be anything more than aching reminders of what they had lost. How she had held every dream in the palm of her hand at one point and was the epitome of happy. Now those dreams, their love, their happiness had been stolen, and from this darkness she was sure she'd never see light again. But fire could bring clean starts. Fire meant rebirth and perhaps if she let the flames swallow this past she could rise as a phoenix, strong and steel to a new life without him.

She extended her arms feeling the intense heat encroaching further up her arms with every inch she moved closer. She couldn't look away from the dance of the flames. She felt her grip slacken and the papers begin to slip. Another inch or two and the loss of comfort and love, the loss of him, would be complete. The first letter began its slow descent into the flames. Fluttering for a moment before a lick of flame reached up and set the words of love aflame.

* * *

><p>'<em>Because I love you. And I want to find out why you don't love me anymore.'<em>

Bleeding internally, this is what it felt like now that the string had snapped. Her heart was drowning in the sorrows of blood and loss. John stood near her but not too close in the boot room. She found her voice enough to begin an adamant answer but stopped short of actually offering one. She told him curtly that she'd be in Ripon for the afternoon before skirting passed him and walking out of the room, letting his downtrodden reply fall on her deaf ears.

Errands ran and Lady Mary fixed for dinner she sat silent in the servant's hall. She could feel his eyes upon her and felt almost a begging tension coming from him. She risked a short glance his way and saw something different in his eyes though she couldn't place what it was exactly.

She needn't worry for long. He found her late that evening working a hole into the shine of Lady Mary's shoe. She resolved herself to keep working despite his presence, for a moment she thought if she didn't acknowledge him maybe he would go. Of course she was wrong. He stopped her vigorous brushing by placing a strong soft hand upon her frail small one. The warmth transmitted was instantaneous and it moved swiftly northward. Why was he still being so kind? What could he possibly say now? She had broken his heart completely, why couldn't he just leave it at that? A small voice, barely a whisper in the far back corners of her brain spoke out; _'he loves you, still. Always.'_ She shook it away. It couldn't be true.

'_I know...I know what happened. Mrs. Hughes told me, I forced her to._'

She backed away from his looming presence, lip trembling fiercely and body shaking from head to toe. He explained what he knew and she lied about who it was. The fear she felt in those moments was nearly the worse she had ever felt, even worse than the night of the concert as this was a completely different type of fear. It was the same fear she felt in the courtroom when he had been sentenced to death, it was the fear of losing him for good. She had broken his heart and now he knew the truth of how she had been spoiled for him. How she was no longer the woman he married, unmarred and touched by only him. It had all come down to this. It was for best wasn't it? Her quest to save his life would be completed by the end of this moment as he would turn his back on her and the divide would be complete and irreversible.

She was surprised then when he didn't leave nor admonish her and her now tarnished being. He simply asked why she hadn't confided in him and nearly scoffed at her answer which was only of course, to save him, though he didn't know the full meaning of her answer. She admitted her failings, how she was made different now, spoiled for him and their life together. Her disbelief continued as he cautiously stepped closer to her and slowly cupped her face in his hands as soft and as caring and as loving as ever previous. She wanted to melt into his palms then, but couldn't trust yet the emotions he seemed to be emitting. Could it be true? How?

'_You are not spoiled. You are made higher to me and holier because of the suffering you've been put through. You are my wife. And I have never been prouder, nor loved you more than I love you now at this moment.'_ With this declaration and the confirmation she sought of these words the last bits of her armor and resolve slipped away. It was everything she had been desperate to hear but yet couldn't even bring herself to dream of. The tightening in her chest rang out and she cried out of relief and love.

She let the sobs come as he held her close to his chest and it felt as wonderful as she had dreamed and as warm and comforting as she remembered. He radiated warmth into her from his strong embrace and gentle kisses placed on her head and she felt the ice that had kept her cold all these long weeks fleeing from her body replaced once again with blood that flowed for him, warm and strong from her heart that was gaining strength with every beat. After, several long moments of clinging to each other she pulled away from him and truly met his gaze. Searching his soul, she saw herself reflected in the love in his eyes. She saw herself as she once was and it gave her hope. Maybe she would never truly find all of that person again, as she was forever changed, but she knew now she wasn't forever lost. She could never be as long as he was there with his open arms and continued love and devotion.

'_Please come back to the cottage Anna. I can't even call it home when you're not there. Please come and make it ours once again.'_ His words were pleading but gentle and she couldn't think of anything she wanted more. She rushed upstairs and threw everything back into her bag and ran back down the stairs. When she neared the bottom she stopped as a grip of panic swelled in her. What if it all had been a glorious dream? What if she descended these stairs and he wasn't there waiting? He had been there so many times when she hadn't wanted him to be, surely this time when she needed him to be, he would be gone. She forced herself to go on, needing to know one way or another. _'Thank god'_ she uttered cloaked in the thankful sigh she released at the sight of him smiling up at her holding her coat and hat to the ready.

* * *

><p>The walk back to the cottage was slow and long, drawn out by the anticipation of the life that would have to begin again once they entered the door. The moon was full casting the path in a blue light and she watched their shadows join when she tentatively took his hand. She didn't see the smile on his face but felt it in her heart as her own crept up small but present nonetheless when she felt his gentle squeeze. He was saying he was there for her and always would be.<p>

He helped her with her coat and hat and hurried out of his own making his way into the cottage ahead of her saying along the way that he'd make some tea. She stood in their sitting room, pacing a small circle as she took it all in. The cottage somehow felt the same all the while appearing to her as if she was looking at it for the first time. She inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly. Suddenly she was so very tired. She called to him to tell him not to bother with the kettle, all she wanted was to sleep in their bed. He said alright and that he'd bring her bag. She made her way up the stairs, lamp in hand and just as she was about to reach the bedroom he called out to her a tinge of panic in his voice.

'_Anna wait, don't...'_ He was rushing up the stairs behind her and she heard him stop when he saw her standing in their room. Everything looked just as it had the morning she'd left. Everything except the bed, which was unmade and seemingly cluttered with bits of paper covering her side.

'_What's this?'_ She asked though approaching the bed not waiting for an answer. She picked up the closest sheet but knew what it was before reading a word. They were every letter she had ever written to him. She turned to him abruptly her mouth agape. A wave of love come over her upon seeing his bashful face.

'_They, your letters I mean. I missed you so much Anna. This room felt so empty and cold without you I could barely stand it. But your letters helped keep me warm at night and helped me keep hope in my heart that someday I would see you in this room once again. I felt as if...if I couldn't have you at least I'd always have your words.'_

The echoing sentiment of the letters, of how he felt about them the same exact way she did, was all the proof she needed. They were still one; still bound by that thread forever binding her heart and soul to his. For all her efforts, for all the darkness thrust upon them that she then tried to hide behind, it had been there always. Slackened surely, maybe never to be wound as tightly as before, but there all the same. It had never been truly severed. It could never be. Not when they loved each other as entirely, purely and truly as they did. She smiled at him then large and genuine, throwing herself into his arms which he then wrapped around her graciously, dropping the valise to the floor. Without words she stepped away placing her palm against his cheek. Stooping she picked up the bag and set it on the chair at her small vanity, reaching in. When she turned back to him she held the packet of letters, all folded back up neatly and tucked back into their perspective envelopes. He looked at her with searching eyes from the letters in her hands and back up holding her gaze with his own.

'_Are those mine to you?'_ He questioned nearly dumbfounded at the realization. He watched her set them down gently and with such reverence. As she approached him she reached into the pocket of her dress pulling a single letter out.

'_They are. I thought and felt the same as you. The exact same John. If I couldn't have you...'_

'_At least I'd have your words.'_ He joined her in the sentiment their voices filling the room in unison. He laughed then, it was small and heavy with emotion but it was a laugh all the same as he reached into his vest pocket pulling out a letter of his own. Their arms reached for each other once more. They stood in their bedroom, in their house, in each others arms as they were meant to be.

'_We' are one, Anna, my love. No matter what has happened or what yet shall cross our path. We are one.' _He placed a kiss to her hair before resting his cheek on her head. She nodded in agreement.

'_Always have been. And always will be.'_


End file.
